We say it's for our bodies' sakes
We stride out by the water's side.
We've all put on those extra pounds;
They're very difficult to hide!
We say we like the great fresh air,
The breathing in and breathing out.
We say we like the friendliness
We simply could not do without.
We say we like the water views,
The rippling distances of lake.
We say we like the water-birds
And all the many sounds they make.
We say we like the extra thrill
Of finding new things round the bend.
But I say the thing we really like
Is the coffee and pastries at the end!
*

Not only to the east, north, west and south but red going straight ahead.

Not for half and hour or so but for hours and hours and hours;

It's a very, very, very, red country, this Australia of ours.

And it isn't even enormous, the really livable part;

It's green round most of the edges with a gigantic blood-red heart.

If the Centre were an ocean, Australia would be

Two pretty ordinary islands, floating in the sea.

One would be called Eastland, and Westland would be far away,

The twain would probably never meet, let alone say 'G'day!'

Except for useful minerals, the Red Centre is, well, just red.

For all intents and purposes we have a heart that's dead.

And yet our fossil history proves that this baking land

Was under water once upon a time! Water where now is sand.

Fossils of fish and sea-shells are found in the Centre's rocks.

Geology's a science that yields up some strange shocks.

I wonder whether Climate Change will reverse our situation?

Whether rising tides will, eventually, result in inundation.

Maybe some centuries lie ahead during which sand will turn green,

Green with plants and trees and flowers! What a sight to be seen.

Of course, none of us will see it, but will we have played a part?

In raising the earth's temperature maybe we'll green our Heart!

*

-----------------------------------------------------

REDHEAD!
How many hopeful gentlemen have gone to Redhead Beach,
Hoping to meet a girl with auburn hair?
And how many men have drifted home despondent and downcast
Because they didn't find a red-head there?
Only three percent of humanity is blessed with russet locks,
And most of them are braw redheaded Celts,
With a sprinkling of freckles, an aversion to the sun,
And a good old haggis tucked beneath their belts!
Most have fiery tempers and are passionate as well;
One could almost say that they are quite mercurial.
This description suits them whatever sex they be,
Whether the name is Malcolm or it's Muriel!
Some famous names will come to mind; Ginger Rogers, Danny Kaye,
Greer Garson, Rita Hayworth, Lucille Ball,
Woody Allen, Spencer Tracey, Nicole Kidman, Clara Bow......
They were famous and, indeed, were red-heads all.
But see the sign above which has a girl with auburn hair
Coaxing young men to dally in the sun!
I'd say that it's false advertising! All the men will find
Is a pinkish cliff! And Redheads? Not a one!
*

And is it nearly a hundred years since I died at Gallipoli?
And is it nearly a hundred years that they've been remembering me?
The waters of the Aegean gleam like crystal way below,
The jagged cliffs are wattle-strewn as they were so long ago.
My spirit hovers peacefully, my bones are buried deep;
Quietly, we young boys lie; undisturbed we sleep.
When first he came to visit us, when the carnage was still new,
The bugler stood alone and sad, sad were the notes he blew.
A handful of mourners stood about, despondent in their grief,
The atmosphere was reverent, painful beyond belief.
But now the bugler brings with him those on 'The Pilgrimage';
They mass on every promontory; they cluster on every ridge.
Thousands of 'Pilgrims' in green and gold, many, young men like me,
Travel across the ocean to see what they can see.
The prayers I'm sure are heartfelt, the patriotism fine,
But does their Anzac Cove, today, remotely resemble mine?
The blood, the guts, the screams, the cries, the bodies strewn around;
The horses in their agony lying on the ground.
The stench, the filth, the pain, the grief, the crying out for 'Mother!'
Australia gaining nationhood in a war that was like no other?
Now they come in their T-shirts, some saying 'I'VE BEEN THERE!'
The rowdy Aussie slogans are ringing through the air.
The shishkebabs are on the stalls, sold by wily Turkish vendors!
'Boy meets girl at Galipolli'! Parties and midnight 'benders' !
I was about your age, way back, longing to sow wild oats,
But I ended up being shot at, and cutting peoples' throats!
And you sweethearts, will you ever know the waiting and the pain?
They say mine died of a broken heart.... my sweetheart..... her name was Jane.
The Lone Pine Cemetery sacred lies, and there the mood is calm,
The atmosphere is reverent, the prayers fall like a balm.
But outside the gates they're partying, thousands on a spree.
Enjoy yourselves, young gentlemen.
It's all the same to me.
*

Copyright

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About Me

Born in England in 1931. Evacuated in World War 2. Trained as a teacher at Brighton Training College, Sussex. Taught in London. Moved to Zimbabwe. Seven years later worked on a mail ship. Married Malcolm in Capetown. Two children, Rebecca and Greg. Moved to Australia in 1974. After retirement worked for a publisher. Three grandsons, Blake, Harry and Max. Disabled by stroke in 2013. Now in wheelchair with husband as carer..